Salt of the Earth
by valwrites
Summary: The world you knew is gone. How far would you go to bring it back? As far as it needs to go.
1. Closure

Her grip on the rough rock loosened, and with a scream full of agony, she fell down the cliff.

"This is it for me," she thought. "What a humiliating way to die."

The very last thing she heard before passing out was the sound of water, pouring down from the waterfall she fell into.

Valkyrie had never been a girl of plans.

Coughing and panting afterwards as if tugging onto dear life, she opened her eyes only to fill them with sweet, refreshing water. Terrified, vulnerable and weak, she struggled to even see clearly and shook her head multiple times. Gazing at her surroundings, she could tell there was nobody around, yet.

She then tried to get up on her feet, trying her hardest to do so, but she realized she was going nowhere as soon as she saw the bolt stuck deep in her thigh. Her head arched back as she groaned and swore to her relief, then wrapping two hands around the bolt, in attempt to take it out which only resulted in her groans and slight screams once more, eyes clenched shut.

She then heard a rather small branch crackling under certain weight, and leaves shuffling, along with gruesome groans. Looking over, she saw the tattered clothes and rotten body of the walker that was approaching her, slowly, from the far edge of the jungle. Seemed to be a businessman in his early life, by the looks of his clothes, possibly led a successful career.

Escaping from her inappropriate thoughts and then muttering to herself in pure panic, she reached for her inherited crossbow, just to see the groove was empty. "Oh, come on," she said as she looked around for her missing bolts, finally spotting them on the ground too far away from her reach. There was only one shot, one bolt she could use, the one in her thigh.

Sudden will and need to survive overcoming hesitation, she wrapped her hands around her prized bolt with force. Shutting her mouth not to scream and therefore, to avoid walkers' attention, she pulled, tears of pure torment escaping her closed eyes, fingertips white and the veins of her hand popping out. Halfway done, she looked up to see how close the walker was, which was not too far. Quickening her pace, she tugged on the edge of the bolt harder, and with a gasp, the bolt was out in her hands, glistening red with her own blood. As the walker got closer and closer, she panicked, realizing how vulnerable she was in the given situation, and crawled backwards, a terrified look on her face. She groaned as she pulled the string of her crossbow with both hands, the muscles on her arms tensing and heating up, she finally managed to put the blood-soaked bolt in the groove. She had to clean her baby soon, figures. As the grotesque creature came within arm's reach, she slowly aimed her crossbow, using an abnormal effort due to her exhaustion, looked through the scope and pulled the trigger.

The bolt went straight through the former businessman's head, mixing her blood with his dark and dense liquid, hitting straight to the brain. She let out a deep sigh of relief as the walker fell down, letting her head fall back and enjoying the sound of water hitting the base and the relaxing silence that surrounded her.

"Good Lord," she muttered as she got out of her little trance and looked around, no hostiles in sight, dandy news for a while. She washed her battered and bruised face, water hurting the profound and also significant scar on her right eyebrow. Kneeling inside the water, which was quite shallow, she draped some fingers across her fresh and deep wound, still bleeding. Sighing, she ripped some rag from her clothes and cleansed in the water, slowly bandaging the wound, and as she squeezed the bandage, her body arched back from pain, but she managed not to scream. If she was to get outta there, she had to be tough. Panting, she knotted the bandage and checked it once more. Standing up and now able to walk slowly, she swung her crossbow across her shoulder and began collecting her bolts, all scattered around, not forgetting the one in the walker's head and stacking them in one of her holsters.

All she needed was an escape route now, but with the dire circumstances she had there, that certainly was not going to be a dime a dozen. She checked her surroundings once again, the cliff that she'd fallen from seemed climbable, among other things. Sighing, she picked up a dry branch from the ground and moved over to the most climbable part. "Let's get this over with," she mumbled to herself, her voice slightly hoarse as her right hand gripped one tough rock, as her left one stuck the branch deep in dirt, and she pulled herself up and started climbing.

After falling multiple times and dealing with a couple of insects, she made it to the cliff, and with a gruesome groan, she pulled her body up, and laid on the ground, breathing heavily and holding her aching wound, her clothes all bloody, bruises and scratches all around her body. Opening her eyes, she then looked up, and a smile crept across her face.


	2. Wounded

Opening her eyes, she then looked up, and a smile crept across her face.

"Tough trip, eh?" Luke, her partner in crime, also known as her brother said, extending a hand and helping up on her feet. He then saw her still fresh wound and looked at her straight in the eyes, then knelt, examining it. As his fingers lingered on the wound, she hissed, unintentionally. "Good Lord, how did it happen?" he looked up and made eye contact, still on his knees. "Ain't no bite, if that's what you're askin'," she answered quietly. "Let's go to camp," she added and pulled a now sad Luke up on his feet, as they walked back, in silence.

Their camp consisted of a small shed they had built a long time ago using some branches and leftover wood from nearby building sites, along with two tents in good conditions and a campfire, of course. After an hour of walking, they arrived at the premises as she went straightforward to the shed for supply check, Luke following suit. "Canned goods?" she asked. "Enough to last us 2 months." She nodded, and took a second look around, then went to the corner where all their ammo was stocked. Picking up a random revolver, she flipped open the cylinder. "How many we've got for the .44 caliber?" she said as she reloaded the gun. "About 5 boxes," Luke answered once more. "As for my bolts?" she said, leaving the pistol be and searching for some rag. "Plenty of those," he said, pointing to the table, on which there were about ten. "Perfect," she muttered and patted her brother on the shoulder as she exited the shed and made her way to one of the logs situated around the campfire pit. Sitting on one of 'em, she took out her crossbow and her blood covered, soaking bolts. Cautiously, and almost passionately, she wiped the blood off of them with the rag in her hands, and put the now clean ones aside, moving onto her crossbow. Beautiful one it was, indeed. She examined her prized possession more, tracing her fingers along the scratches on the sides.

"Pull the string until it's locked and secure," her dad had said, pulling it in order to help her. "Great. Now, set the arrow," he had said, giving her an arrow from his stash, as she had nodded and put it in the groove as told, trembling slightly. He had chuckled at his baby girl's efforts, even though she was 14 back then. "Okay, here we go," he had mumbled as he helped her lift the weapon and position it between her hands and her shoulder, letting the forestock rest there. Valkyrie had been utterly nervous, as it had been her first time using a crossbow, and it was more complicated than your average bow and arrow, which she had used well. Closing one eye and concentrating, she had looked through the scope and let her fingers rest on the trigger. All of a sudden, they had come across a mature deer, an open target. It had an exquisite animal, that particular deer, with its antlers and chocolate brown color; also it's gleaming, almost innocent, huge eyes. "Val," her dad had said, and pointed at the beautiful creature, "I want you to shoot the deer right in front of you, on my mark." She had hesitantly nodded and as his countdown finished, when the time was right, she had pulled the trigger. The bolt had traveled rather fast, and stung the deer right in the neck, a wonderful start for the beginner she was, and the deer had fallen down, the life leaving its body.

She shook her head as the corners of her mouth ascended, forming a small, nostalgic smile as she reminisced about her old, long gone life. Those were the times to cherish and live up to the fullest, but they couldn't know their real worth, and that was what made the fettle even more unbearable. Shaking her head again from her thoughts and looked at Luke who came and sat near her, a worried look on his face. He had always been the protective one, her brother, even though she didn't need it, but she kept herself from complaining as the situation itself annoyed her sometimes. "Nothin' to worry about, just tired," she said in attempt to comfort her brother, her southern drawl showing up. Luke gave her the crooked smile of his and nodded slightly. The skies were turning darker and darker now, and the exhaustion suddenly hitting. She fought back a yawn, but Luke just couldn't resist it. "Imma go sleep, you keep watch?" he asked, almost pleading. She nodded and grinned slightly. "G'night," they both said and Luke slowly walked to his blue tent, opened it up and got in, then closing the zipper, leaving a small open area for air.

Now all alone, or maybe not, she took out a match from one of her many pockets, lit it up and threw it in the fire pit, watching as the small flame consumed the wood, spreading slowly, it was a relaxing sight, one of the numbered things that gave her relief these days. She reloaded her now clean crossbow and swung it back to its' place, you never know when these walkers are gonna pop out. Exhausted, but just wanting to reward a good rest to his brother who much deserved it, she stood up on watch all night, thinking.

Was this apocalypse, this whole world gone to hell, a punishment or a new beginning, to save the humans from all their burdens? God's punishment to mankind for all their sins? A new option, a second chance to build the world from scratch, to make it a far better place for the upcoming generations? A fresh chapter, a blank page for the people who had been through a lot in their lifetimes? To give humanity a lesson using survival, brutality, violence and extreme agony? God's little game to see who was the strongest? Or was it just an event only to be mentioned again in history books?

Whatever it was, she hoped it wouldn't last too long, for everyone's sake.


	3. Burden

The sound of birds chirping, probably unaware of what what was going down. Sunbeams leaking through the leaves and trees, illuminating the ground with it's bright, yellow light. Smell of fresh air and nature surrounding her. The clear view of the bluest sky up in front of her, behind the hill. The place somewhat felt like a temporary home, like a shelter protecting it's residents from any harm possible. It had been hard growing accustomed to it after all that's happened, but people do what they gotta do.

A new day was starting, a fresh page, a sign that mankind had survived one more day, a beacon of hope. Funny how such little things could mean so much these days, not that everyone complained, people needed every single drop of motivation they could find.

She sighed as she stood up, yawning, as she'd been up all night, on watch. She picked up her crossbow, swinging it back to her shoulder. Everything was going surprisingly well after the incident the last day, not that she was complaining, but it felt a little odd, a little unusual to keep calm for a while. None the less, she couldn't let go of her guard, as letting your guard down in this small, disastrous world or what's left of it, meant painful and slow death, usually by the walking dead.

Stretching her arms and legs as a part of her morning routine to remain fit, she then walked towards his brothers' tent, only to find vacancy. Right hand automatically resting on the very edge of her precious crossbow, she checked her surroundings as she quickly yet quietly moved towards the shed where they kept all their equipment and tools.

As she crept in closer, she could hear the slight mumbles of a non-identified voice, along with some objects dropping to the hard ground and some swearing. This thief was nowhere near professional, it seemed, probably an non-experienced bandit in depths of despair and survival. Sneakily, and trying not to make creaks on the old hardwood, she slowly pulled the wooden door that opened inside, crossbow loaded and aimed.

"Hey there, lil' sis."

Her eyes widened in slight shock as her grip on the crossbow loosened, swinging it back over. A smirk covering her tired face, she leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. "And what's baby brother doin' here?"

Luke let out a nervous laugh as he picked up the can of beans he just dropped. Stashing back in the bags he was packing, scratched the back of his neck and turned towards her with an anxious expression. "I-uh, I had this weird dream last night... probably nothin', but you know, gotta be prepared, eh?" he said and gestured the backpacks he'd been packing, stuffed with ammo, weaponry, and food, enough for a couple of months. Her face rested dull and straight upon seeing those. "I was gonna shoot your dumb ass minutes before. You shoulda just came and told me 'bout it," she said as she moved closer to his brother, zipping the backpacks in order. "What was this dream of yours about? Them walkers all over the place?" she asked, not making eye contact as she fiddled with the bags.

He hesitated for a second, staring blankly at the wooden, scratched wall. Lost in his thoughts, he stayed like that for a good old five minutes, earning a small poke from his beloved sister. Collecting his mind together and shaking his head, he let out a small laugh and begun speaking, still hesitant about it. "In-how to put this-In my dream, I saw- I saw the camp being... attacked, by'em flesh eaters. I made them bags, just in case," he said, voice down low. "And you... you, gettin' bit," he mumbled the last part, as if he was guilty for it.

She turned her head, worry suddenly hitting her for the first time in a long while, she stared in her brother's eyes, then to the ground, thinking what that would turn out to be. Would she truly get bit and say goodbye to this world in such a humiliating way? Eaten, tore apart by a flesh eating, moaning, sacks of shit? Would Luke even bother to end her misery? As she suffered with blood loss and the pain of her skin being tore apart from her body by a bad and rotten set of teeth? Would he really have the courage to send a bullet straight to her head, ending and easing her suffering, not letting her turn into one of these abominations she fought against for the time being? Or will she just get left behind, between these foul creatures, as they ripped apart her intestines, and come back as one of them after they've fed off of her, seeking fresh blood and human organs? Maybe after her loved ones? Would her, dying, be a burden to his brother, considering the fact that he stayed alive? Would it slow him down, or even, drain the life out of him?

What would happen if she died, or worse, _turned_?

The thought itself was enough to give her the shivers as she continued to stare at the ground as if it was some masterpiece artwork she had there. True, sometime along in the future, her luck had to ran out, and that'd be the end of her adventure. She knew it, and she learned to live by and with it, but it kept her wondering at times, like this. Death fondly seemed the cure to cease all the suffering. One flick of your finger. One bite to the arm. One bullet travelling inside. It could terminate all the fear of loss, death, grief and pain. Nothing more to be afraid of, just white, or black. Solid, and smooth, without a flaw.

_The only thing you have to fear, is fear itself._

She had to be tough, for her being, and more importantly, her brother who she loved dearly. She couldn't let her only fear show to anyone, if she wanted to survive this thing, a _phase_ hopefully, she had to endure all the trouble she encounters, with either luck or sweat. Survival of the fucking fittest, not the weakest. She could not let her emotions get in the way, that'd just be a burden to all her lot. Emotions were good for one thing, in this post-apocalyptic world, getting you killed. In the most reckless, and let's face it, the most disgusting, gut-wrenching, blood-curling way. No bonds, no emotions, nothing. Lock them up in the cupboard and throw the key out. Don't let them show out to anyone. Ain't nothing to make the situation worse. Just a cold heart and a fit mind. A tough and ironic fact to comprehend but she and her brother both knew that, and were acting accordingly. Will and need to survive on the left, and looking after each other on the right. Without these key notions in hand, hell, they wouldn't even last a week in this.

She let out a small sigh and her head arched back slightly, realizing she had been lost in her thoughts for too long for her liking, slowly putting a reassuring, comforting hand on his shoulder, letting it rest there. "Ain't nothin' happenin' to me, nor to you, Luke. Don't you worry, kid, I ain't leaving you this soon, no," she said, slipping the backpack on, and laughed. "I'll hang around a lil' bit more before that."


	4. Hope

How did this epidemic start anyway?

Lots of people woke up on that merry day, said hello to the sunshine and birds chirping around, and stretched, stepping out of bed. It was a normal day as all. Or at least they thought it was. Some walked to their parent's bedroom, only to find their mom and dad committed suicide, two bloody revolvers on the bloody sheets, eyes still open and mouths widened in shock. Some were just following their daily routine, as they went to the kitchen to get some breakfast, they instead saw a smelly, rotten and unconscious version of their neighbors sitting on the ground and eating the intestines of their dearly beloved dog, blood splattered all around the room. Some let out a cry of war and picked up their already prepared bag of supplies and an arsenal of weapons, getting in the car with all of the family that's left. Some were too terrified to even begin to comprehend what was going down, so their choice was to put a gun up against their head, to take the easy way as they saw it.

Valkyrie regretted not choosing the last option.

On that very first day, when the world all went to hell, she had just woken up from her monthly sleepover, in the house she grew up, sunbeams gleaming through the diaphanous curtains of her room. Leading her sleepy self to the kitchen, a straggler suddenly had jumped on her. Struggling and occasionally screaming, she had tried to push him off of her body, which she did in the end. She had took some steps back, her back meeting the wall, gasping and in pure shock to see her now dead mother on the ground, her clothes torn and her skin rotten, fresh blood dripping from her half open mouth. Upon seeing this view, she had let out a sad moan and collapsed on the ground as the mother had started crawling towards her daughter. Without second thought, she had picked up the kitchen knife that was on the counter, climbed on top and stabbed her in the head, tears streaming down her eyes as she had furiously knifed the shock, angst and terror out of her. She then let go of the knife and collapsed, her knees still on the floor as she cried her eyes out, letting it all go. She then felt two hands on her shoulders, holding her protectively as she was still on the ground, slightly encouraging her to get up. "Come on now," her brother had whispered to her and pulled her up, still holding her, as his eyes saw their mother on the ground, this causing the slight tears in his eyes. "Go get changed, we're leavin'," he had said sadly and let her sister go. She had looked straight into his brother's eyes. "Where's dad?" but an answer never came out of him.

2 goddamned years, and his mouth remained shut.

And yet, there she stood, watching as those creatures that destroyed her life now destroying her camp, her temporary home. Shooting arrows like some madman and then sprinting to retrieve them, she saw Luke grab the bags he luckily prepared earlier and run towards her, out in the open. She wasn't gonna question the act, his brother was the only alive being she counted on, the only source of hope that kept her alive, and did he have some sixth sense.  
"How the hell did they get here?" he shouted as he took out his revolver and started firing, rather accurately. She, instead, just kept her mouth shut and continued eliminating the walkers, formerly known as people. She then took out her hunting knife, bashing the approaching walker's head off with it. "Too fucking many of them. Get a move on," she said and took her brother's hand, running off to the woods as she took a final glance back home just to see them abominations feeding on the rabbits she hunted a couple of days ago, leaving all the grunts and groans behind, not to mention the smell.

After running breathless for a few yards, she suddenly felt wetness on her leg. Looking down, she realized her wound was bleeding once again. "Oh shit," she muttered and tried to find some rag in her bag, letting her knees fall to the soil. Luke was still walking, panicked, when he realized his sister wasn't with him anymore. "Valkyrie?" he whispered quite loudly and turned behind, letting out a sigh of relief but the rushing towards her, kneeling. She rolled up her pants only to reveal a freshly opened, deep, bleeding bolt wound. "Fuck," Luke cursed as he looked around to check if they were safe, and they were, for now. He then tore some of his t-shirt to cover her wound. "Here," he said as he tightened the rag between his hands and wrapped it around her thigh. She clenched her jaw and forced shut her eyes to ease the pain and avoid making noise, as her fists got white from all the force applied. She slowly opened her eyes to see the blood soaked bandage. "It'll hold for a while," Luke said and got up, extending a hand out. She nodded as in thanks and accepted his hand, struggling a bit to get up, picking dragging her bag up with her body. "Now what?" she asked, holding onto her brother's arm, gazing around. That was the time she truly got hold of her surroundings. They were in a middle of a large field of wheat, trees surrounding the almost circular area. Long, long way further, stood a large, white, wooden farmhouse, and near was a red barn. There seemed to be no people around, and the farmhouse looked pretty safe, to be honest, it almost looked tempting after what all they've been through. Waking up in a soft, clean bed instead of the torn surface of the old camping tents. It was a luxury they couldn't afford back then.

The two siblings looked at each other and nodded in enthusiasm, as she wrapped an arm around her brother's shoulders for support. Slowly walking forward to their only left hope for survival, they had no clue what was about to happen.

And that was the very moment Valkyrie was sent to the ground by a bullet coming from a sniper rifle.


	5. Vulnerable

She couldn't even remember the last time she slept in a proper bed.

The most comfortable space she'd slept on since the beginning of this world gone to hell was on some makeshift mattress with large leaves and some grass stuffed up in it. She'd forgotten the comfort of the clean, blossomy white sheets, not having to curl up in a ball while sleeping and stretch her arms and legs as long and much as she could. Not that she was in the condition to do them anyway. It was a long-missed and gone luxury for the siblings, along with the many things they had to leave behind and abandon.

Hot, refreshing, steamy showers. Taking a walk up in the park. Stepping inside the train to make your way downtown, plugging in your headphones and getting lost in another universe. The smell of the downtown area, the greasy and delicious odor of the fast food restaurants and take-away booths. Sitting up in porch in a peaceful, steady Sunday evening and plucking at a six-string. The shooting polygons where you could waste as much as ammo you could and shoo the stress away, her favorite. You could still shoot rather abnormal shit today, true, but not without stocking ammo, though that didn't feel quite the same.

She also did miss her family. He mother who baked the best lasagna which filled the house with it's tempting odor, was a rather happy-go-lucky woman, that's what made her more beautiful to the eyes of his dad. He was more of a hunter, a wild soul, stuck in the uniform of a salesman. He sometimes wanted to get out and hit off the woods with his hunting rifle and occasionally, with a peculiar crossbow. Taking the fresh air in and enjoying the quiet, green environment. This activity here was his only distraction, his only source of blowing the steam off of his head. Not to mention her pain-in-the-ass brother. A typical teenage boy, with hormones he couldn't control back in the day. The family wasn't perfect, nor was it terrible, it was just an ordinary Georgian family and that was what made it perfect to her eyes.

_Well, an infected mother eating her husband's guts shattered that exceptional family picture, quite frankly. _

She slowly struggled to open her eyes, as they got used to the dim light in that barely illuminated her surroundings. Up straight ahead, was a window, with the blinds closed, which barely let the moonshine in. Looking to her right, stood a lit candle, the flame danced slowly and smoothly, as more of the candle melted down to the plate underneath it. The door was on the very left end of the room, which didn't seem to be locked. This place was eerie, and wasn't no tent either. Panic started building inside her as she tried to stand up. Trying to raise her head slowly, an attempt which failed miserably, her bandaged head fell back to the clean and soft pillow, along with a small groan escaping her lips. Pushing the blanket that was covering her frame, only to reveal torn pants and a new and clean bandage on her wound.

Upon hearing creaks on the wooden floor, she looked slightly up at the door, and saw her brother enter in. He sent her a genuine smile as he sat next to her, taking her hand in his. "We're safe," he said, joy and relief could be seen in his eyes as she looked at her, with a surprised expression. She had a hard time choosing words, but eventually she came up with some. "What is this place?" she asked, and hissed afterwards as her head started aching again. "Hey, you alright?" Luke asked with worry, which was answered by a reassuring smile from her. Luke nodded and licked his lips, then talked. "We're at a farm. Safe in here, there's this doctor, he patched you up, the folks seem alright." She nodded, taking it all in. "When we leavin'?" she said, her instincts talking. Luke sighed. "Whenever you are up and well," he said and slowly stood up, not letting go of her hand yet. "So, how you holdin' up? Can you walk? You can meet the folks and all."

She slowly stood up, tugging on his brother's supporting hand as one of her hands went to the wall, to take more support. She groaned as her brother wrapped an arm around her and helped her move. How could she end up this vulnerable? The situation and embarrassment ate her up inside, as much as she hated to admit it. Taking slow steps to the door, she finally got out of the room, stepping inside a larger room with lots of windows, some couches and a closed door which led outside, preferably. In front of her, on a brown and wood armchair, sat a woman on her late thirty's, as far as she could presume. The moonshine hit smoothly to her blonde hair, and revealed her anxious face. Her clothes were torn in certain places, and muddy in the rest. The woman shot on her feet as she saw someone coming out of the room. The stranger ran towards the infamous siblings, reaching out her hands to hold the wounded one, as she gave them a slight smile. "I-I am, how to say this, truly sorry, I thought you were, you were one of _them_, a walker, you know, you walked st-strangely, and all, I didn't-I didn't mean to shoot you, I swear to God," she began to explain the situation hesitantly, with a stressed out southern accent, afraid of the very answer her unintentional victim would give. Valkyrie thought for a while of what reaction to present, she struggled between throwing a weak punch at her and just knocking it off.

"No worries," she said, looking straight in her eyes, and gave a small smile. Her voice was weak and exhausted, as she tried her best to gather the strength to speak. The woman nodded and smiled, grateful. "Name's Andrea. Maybe you'd like to meet the others?" she asked as Valkyrie nodded.

"That's where we headin' off to."


	6. Newcomer

Meeting new people had always been an issue.

She had always been the loner, a lone wolf and this, therefore, resulting in not too vivid memories during her long passed student life. She was not your average girly girl type, no, she was the one who swore and didn't give two fucks. Who was good with a gun rather than boys and relationships, with people to be frank. Who chose the comfortable silence of the forest over the noisy, pointless_ clubs_ that all of her kin went on about. An outcast, along with a few good friends. An outsider to all the gossip but couldn't care less.

People had always been confusing. One time they're all heart and neighborly, the next their words leave an acrid pain in your pretty little heart. Unpredictable, you could never be too prudent with them. Nothing could go in concordance between the kin, there was always a complaint or fault. Make one mistake and boom, there goes your entire reputation. Make one mistake and nobody ceases to forget. Heaven knew what was their full potential on damaging others.

New faces meant undiscovered dangers lying beneath them. If there was only one thing she learnt since the very beginning of this epidemic, that'd be the fact that under certain conditions such as a life and death situation, everyone, even the most innocent and pure being would put a 9mm between your eyebrows. God knows what a human being can do under pressure, with death in one hand and survival in the other. His true nature, the wild animal shackled down inside him comes to live for an evanescent moment of distress. She wanted to avoid the given situation by any means, for the sake of her only left family.

And he last thing she needed in this dog-eat-dog world, was an abyss of obscureness.

The kitchen was slightly cold in that breezy summer night, moonlight squeezing through the diaphanous, cream curtains. _Usually on a night like that, we would just sit down at the porch and pluck at some six string. _White walls, decorated with exquisite plates and family photographs, all in frames, all without a scratch nor a tint of dust. The same wooden planks covered the floor, as an archway led the siblings to the old-fashioned dining room, packed with survivors, as they called it. And the smell. Before all of the beating hearts sitting there and staring at her, came the smell.

It was something offbeat, divergent, discrepant. Something she suffered without for long. Something she had this husky edacity for, but just couldn't acquire. And there it was, some real food. Not the ones she spent hours to put an arrow across it's heart, real, cooked, home-made meal. Her sudden impulse was cut off by a man stepping forward out of nowhere and standing right in front of her. Taking additional support from the blank wall on her left, her drained eyes met the mans' light blue ones. He was rather old, this one, had all whitened hair and a grown beard to go along with it, wearing a white, rather clean shirt with suspenders, and regular, maroon pants. His face had a rather stern expression carved on it, but his eyes told different, they had uneasiness and a tint of care in them.

"You should be in bed," he said along with a slight smile, eyes sliding up over at her wound. "Pretty bad damage you got there. Consider yourself lucky that the bullet just passed by," he added. "The serious talk for later, dinner's up."

Nodding and curling her lips up for a brief smile, she quietly appreciated the old timer's and her baby brother's assistance, as she sat down to a wooden chair, one of the many sprawled around the huge table. An eerie silence fell down at the table as she took her place, many pairs of blue and green and dark orbs focusing on her.

A slim and ever radiant woman barging in, probably on her forties, and looking straight at the girl whose head had slightly bloody bandages on it. "What's she doing here? She should be resting, in bed, she's not recovered yet," she said, her tone slightly stronger than normal, as far as presumed. "Hey, hold your horses," another woman said, approaching the wounded, a genuine smile on her face as she put some of the exquisite smelling food on her plate. "It's just a meal, then she'll have all the time in the world for sleep," she added. Valkyrie nodded in gratefulness and without a second thought, she picked up her fork and dug in, eating the hot substance as if she'd spent days in a desert. _Well, the desert would be better than a world with the walking dead. _Surprisingly, his brother and some others on the dinner table chuckled at her actions, a few of them saying a small prayer and all of them beginning to eat.

The conversation taking place at the table was nothing different than any other dinner talks, just people making small talk between each other, and enjoying the meal while they have the privilege to. Home cooked meal was an enormous luxury in that current phase, and they all knew that. Had they not, they'd probably be walking groggily on the street, their flesh smelling of fish and eating intruder's faces off.

She eventually swept the food off of her plate, looking up to meet the old man's blue orbs. "We, um, thank you for the meal," she managed to say, a small smile plastered on her face. "Thank you all for your- for your hospitality, but we wouldn't want to... bother you folks, you-you obviously have a livin' going on here," she added with her last remaining strength, thus making her voice sound weaker. As a somewhat expected response, the man stared bluntly at someplace over her head, lost in thoughts.

"You and your brother are welcome to stay here till you've completely recovered," was the only thing he said, earning a couple of sighs from the crowd. She nodded, and slowly stood up, Luke wrapping her arm around his shoulders, took a one last glance at the room, slowly walking her out of the four walled space. "Time will show us the rest," the old man added just before the siblings exited, causing them to turn their heads back. Luke briefly smiled at Hershel, not going further into the topic as the world revolved around her sister for him.

Slowly making their way back to her temporary room, large and rather heavy boots creaked the wooden floor, the sound coming from across the hall. _How many people are in this place, for God's sake?_

"You geeks eat them mashed potatoes, I ain't givin' up on my good old squirrels," a rather gruff and deep voice said to himself quite loudly, placing something what sounded like heavy, on the wood. Just as the newcomer walked towards the kitchen and past the siblings, unknowingly, humming a tune, his brother and his protective instincts leading her quickly into the room, closing the doors.

But she could have sworn she caught a glimpse of the darkest, most divine of blue eyes.


	7. Trust

The lack of adaptability had always been there.

Let it be a fancy downtown restaurant with gleaming lights with prices only white collars can afford or just some regular, family type condo back hometown, and the ordinary neighborhood park full of people, she'd find herself incommodious in every milieu she'd enter. Not about insecurities, none at all, she had a pretty well built self-confidence which she tended to keep away from humanity for her sake. She had always thought she could never fit in, to become one with the frame, with the crowd she's in. She believed that she didn't belong anywhere, but to herself, and the woods. Nature and trees and reticence and reconciliation. That was what pleased her the most, gave the needed amenity, made her feel safe and sound, out of any peril, just her and her mind, ready to listen.

_It's time._

They used to take hikes like that in the woods just around the corner. All geared up and camcorders in hand, the whole Beck family would set off on a dandy Sunday morning and take some fresh air in. She longed this peculiar family tradition, laughing all together and strolling around the mountains, her dad with his famous binoculars and her mother with her significant fisherman's cap, and her utterly stupid brother in his dark, cheap, rip-off sunglasses he bought every single year on summer sale, from Target, for ten bucks.

_Come on._

And this particular group, all holed up in this old and possibly inherited family farm, seemed like decent people. From the way they kept watch and regarding by the slight bullet scar on her head, these people looked after each other's back. Safety in numbers and all that. With the weaponry, ammunition and manpower they had, this group did top off the chances of survival. Having a doctor in hand? Well, that was not something to see everyday. She couldn't express the gratefulness she had deep inside for them, for not just letting her be walker bait and also for keeping her baby brother still drawing breath, because God knows what kind of people that's left out there. But was this hell lot of favor enough for the siblings to count on'em? Trusting someone in this world of survival, was like putting all your grands on one single gamble. You could never be so sure.  
_Wake up._

And with a slight slap to the cheek, she slowly opened her eyes, a soft groan escaping her quite chapped lips, only to see that damned brother of hers looking straight in her eyes. "Rise and shine," he said, and stood up from the edge of the bed, offering his sister a hand. As mush as he despised to admit it, his baby little sister still being in that condition of hers broke his heart every time he saw her. She was supposed to be the brave one, the daredevil, the expert marksman, the one who kept going, the heroine. She was supposed to slice walkers with her hunting knife, rotten and dark blood spraying all over her, or shooting the dainty little walkers heads with the crossbow. But no, she was not supposed to get shot by some madwoman who was given a sniper rifle for the first time which evidently exceeded her abilities and knowledge.

If there had been anyone to get wounded by a bullet, that should've been him.

Slowly taking a sitting position, Valkyrie closed her eyes,taking a minute to adjust it all in, leaving his brother's offer hanging midair. Looking up and meeting his blue orbs, a gift from their mother, exclusive to his brother, compared to her pitch black ones, the exact copies of her beloved fathers'. "What's that got up you so early?" she asked out of curiosity, dark thoughts suddenly engulfing her mind. She knew they'd have to leave the farm one day, but she had definitely not been expecting it to be that soon. Ideas of negotiations, trades and aiding.

A little piece of relief surrounded her body as his brother just shrugged. "This guy wanted some help for something, told me to go wake you up. Didn't wanna, but, you know. Shit seems important," he said using his usual, bored tone, his hand now in his pockets and leaning against the cream colored, hard wall. "I could swing by him if you wanna rest more, you know," he mumbled the last part, staring at his worn out, muddy and blood stained sneakers. He never wore them. Thought they didn't go with anything.

Raising a hand in both reassurance and acceptance, she took a moment encore to stand up, using her hands on the bed for support. Despising herself for being weak and wide-open, she walked till she reached the door frame, grasping onto it, her head still giving her a hard time. The bandage was replaced by a navy blue bandanna wrapped around her skull, much too tight for her liking, but she managed. Stepping out of the simple but effective room, feeling the somewhat rushed and fast vibrations and occasional creaks on the hardwood flooring, and the sturdy sound of a door shutting. Immediately straightening her body up to the most appropriate posture she could achieve then, her back and head up. Circled and tired eyes now wide open, hands off the welcomed support of the wall. Through the rather dirtied and dusty windows, she could fathom some kind of meeting going down, silhouettes near a rather medium sized RV.

Her brother tailing behind without a single word out of his sealed, dry mouth, she passed through the white, wooden door that led outside, heading straight to the group gathered around. "We searched this area yesterday," a gruff man who seemed like he was in his early thirties pointed out on a map, pinned to the RV by his right hand. "No sign of her. Glenn checked the highway, supplies still restin' where they were." he added, as another muscular, but bald man approached to the predicted leader. "You and me could wander off just over'ere," he added, pointing to a specific location on the nearly torn and almost yellow map of suburban Georgia. "Daryl wants to play lone wolf again."

As she slowly drew near, the group suddenly became aware of her presence. Some eyes were opened widely, and some eyebrows were lifted with pity, and some faces had no expressions on them. Her inner self immediately wanted the ground to crack and pull her down inside with all of the attention directed towards her. "Look who's up," the man holding the map still said, his eyes giving her the once-over. Within a fraction of a second, he grabbed a black, old-fashioned, short barrel revolver and dropped the map on the nearby parked car. He held the gun from the grip, and walked straight to her, looking down to meet her eyes, his hand extending for her to grab the gun. "Might as well prove yourself, like that brother of yours."

A million thoughts rushed over to her mind, and her head suddenly felt heavier to carry. Sending a quick glance at her brother, only to see shrugging. Not many people distributed guns to the poor, in such conditions. Bullets had become a currency for the living, as they were not easy to find. As a direct result of that, you could not just go barging into rooms and spraying everyone up on their feet with your AK-47, no. Not even close. You had to count heads, to see if your bullets match up to it. You had to think wise and make decisions accordingly before shooting. With a body other than yours to protect, you had to make it count. Whatever ammo you had, let it be bolts, arrows, bullets, rocks, you had to aim accurately, or you were long gone.

When she first lunged forward to grab, he unexpectedly pulled the gun back. "How do I trust you?" She looked at the gun, then up encore, extending her hand, not breaking eye contact. Sharply, he placed the gun between her fingers. She squeezed it, then flipping the cylinder open to see only one bullet loaded up. "You don't," she responded and stuffed the revolver into the back of her lacerated chaps. "As for my crossbow?" she questioned. His thumb pointing to the hardened, brusque man leaning against an oak tree, cleaning the remaining bolts of his own exquisite crossbow, not even bothering to look up to the fettle. "Daryl will honor the claim."

* * *

Sorry for the poorly written chapter. Enjoy, I guess. Thank you all lovely people for the support.


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